According to the New Testament, the meek shall inherit the earth. That may be so in the next life. But in this one, the poor are more likely to be moved out of their homes by economic forces they can’t control and police who just don’t care. This is the subject of Howard L. GATO Mitchell’s new short film, “Forgive us our Debts.” In this beautifully shot film, a father, son and grandmother we barely see, are evicted after the bank forecloses on them.
The film centers on Trey, the son, who studies French and plays with toy soldiers. Trey is a natural caregiver. He’s been cooking for the family, he wears an apron and he tries to fix the holes in his grandmother’s socks. But most of all, he’s been caring for his family by hiding foreclosure notices. We get the sense that he’s doing this to protect his family, so they don’t have to deal with the impending disaster. Trey’s also been intercepting calls, presumable from the bank, on the landline. The landline is, in fact, hooked up to a phone that’s as red as the fires of hell in the Dante’s Inferno coloring book on Trey’s table.
The short is, in fact, full of religious imagery. From the gospel songs playing on the TV, to the paintings of Mary in the grandmother’s room to the Godspell DVD in the background. Trey’s thoughts, too, are full of images of Christ and the damned burning in hell.
Trey’s father is named Dante, to continue with the Christian theme. Dante arrives home with a case of Miller Genuine Draft and tells his son about the condos going up nearby and the anti-fascist messages posted around the neighborhood. He makes a fist, shows it to Trey, and tells him that this is all he needs in this world. He is, though, just about to find out that he may be wrong. The dreaded phone rings again. Trey answers and yells at whoever’s on the other line no to call back again. Dante is angry and can’t understand why Trey’s behaving like this. Until Trey shows him a shoebox full of foreclosure notices. Dante assures Trey they have nothing to worry about, but moments later, the flashing lights of a police cruiser appear in their window.
There’s an altercation between Dante and the police, which results in two policemen choking Dante and dragging him to the ground in front of Trey. This is a disturbing and shocking scene. The violence is clearly uncalled for, but also, and horrifically, all too realistic. In Trey’s eyes, Dante’s prone body transforms into the an image of the deposition of Christ; the body of Jesus after it’s been taken down from the cross. For Trey, Dante is suffering for the sins of these police, the developer who wants them out, and the gentrification that’s changing the shape of so many American cities.
According to his bio, director GATO, Howard L. Mitchell’s pseudonym, uses film to, “examine the fire beneath the ice of humanity.” This concept is realized powerfully in this short. What on the surface appears to be a procedural and legal matter between a family that’s fallen behind on its bills, a bank that has to watch its bottom line and the police who are just enforcing the law, in fact feels to Trey like being thrown into the inferno. In a twist on traditional Christianity, the family, a sort of trinity, are evicted and sent to hell for the sins of an icy, indifferent society.
In a final paradox, Trey and his mother (with Dante presumably in jail) are being asked to leave – evicted almost – from a church after a service has wrapped up. The preacher urges her to leave because they have to lock up. The grandmother, though, still faceless, is begging God to forgive the police officers who were at her door, and all those who’ve killed in the name of the law. This makes us wonder whose debts really need to be forgiven: those who can’t pay their bills, or those who commit injustice and know not what they do.
In the final act of the film, Trey makes a fist and takes his grandmother’s hand to comfort her.